


Backup for Bad Odds

by VulpusTumultum



Series: Tumblr Promptfics [20]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Gen, Light Angst, Post-Break Up, Rescue, Trust Issues, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4532685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpusTumultum/pseuds/VulpusTumultum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://vulpustumultum.tumblr.com/post/126140751702/20-song-lyric-prompts-kamelot">From a Tumblr Prompt list based on Kamelot Lyrics</a> </p><p><b><i>Glory:</i></b> Strong is my steel and dark is my blood: Lyos pls </p><p>Roughly 3 years before the Conclave, somewhere in the Free Marches, Lyos proves he really can't stand slavers, that he earned his place as one of the best melee fighters in Clan Lavellan, and maybe also that he can separate personal issues from what he feels is his duty to his people as a protector.</p><p>...Maybe a bit of a protector for more than <i>just</i> his people.</p><p>And then, sometime after the Conclave, it's proven that ex-lovers really don't necessarily make great prophets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backup for Bad Odds

Of _course_ the cave the slavers had managed to retreat into was now a trap, though Lyos and Valhel had seen to it with their bows that there were still less of them than there had been. They'd been dogging the slavers patiently, firing on them, slipping further away and then creeping back so they could get another shot. Crippling was better, since then the slavers had to care for them, finish them, or leave them behind for the elves to finish off- and any of those three options caused argument and growing unease. None of the assholes liked to think they might be the next one left behind or finished off by their 'friends'.

It had almost been like old times, with him and Valhel working perfectly together. Until now.

Valhel shook his head and shrugged at the new situation, “We should leave them, they're almost out of our territory, and they aren't going to backtrack- no! _Fenedhis_ Lyos, I know that look-”

“They had slaves with them.”

“ _Shemlen_. Maybe a city elf or two- we don't die for their kind, if they got too close to the camp it would be them that we'd be putting arrows in. _Creators_ \- is this current episode of having a death wish because you picture every city elf as being your father, or because of me and Silina?”

“Don't flatter yourself,” Lyos said it shortly, feeling his face grow hot with sudden anger, “Or bring my father into this. There were only what, five of them completely uninjured now?”

“And three who can still shoot at us even if they're sitting or limping. There's _two_ of us, Lyos, they've holed up, they're waiting. At most we can wait them out and go back to harrying them when they emerge, but there's a storm moving in and you can see the signs it will be bad as well as I.”

“So waiting for hours or even a day is out.” Lyos set his bow aside, and unslung his shield. “Feel free to not back me up if you really think I'm just trying to die.”

“And what will we do with their captives? Take them back to camp?” Valhel asked with sour sarcasm.

“You said it yourself, they're almost out of range of the camp. We tell them there's that village what, south of here? They'll be able to sell off whatever they loot from the slavers.”

“The shemlen ones will just take it all, maybe kill the elves themselves, you know that.”

“Maybe. It's a good suspicion, but we hardly _know_ it.”

“You're a fool. But I suppose better dead than a slave.”

“Considering neither of us have any experience with either? That's actually the foolish thing to say. Look on the bright side, the slavers know we're Dalish. They haven't even tried using their captives as hostages- they know what your response would be.”

Lyos had to admit, he wasn't expecting Valhen's response, which was to actually try and physically stop him, and they were lucky that the slavers _were_ well holed up and not trying to creep up on them. Valhen wound up with a bloody nose, but Lyos sword successfully taken from his sheath, all within a matter of moments, the two young men staring at each other angrily.

“You used to trust my judgment,” Lyos said softly.

“Well that was before you went and showed that was a mistake. This entire time out, you've just been reckless- and it's because you're _still_ hung up on- ”

“I already said it has nothing to do with that.”

“You also said that you knew we weren't ever going to become anything more than casual lovers.”

“...And you think that's made me also suddenly be unable to judge anything and everything, such as all the ways I could've kept my sword if I'd broken your jaw or arm with my shield?”

Lyos felt the anger knotting in him, and took a breath- considering. If Valhen wasn't going to back him up at all, or might actively try and sabotage him- could he handle that many enemies? He'd been counting on the other scout's bow or daggers, especially the bow.

From the cave came the start of a child's wail or scream, cut off suddenly. Faint, at this distance, maybe it was a test to see if they'd take the bait. Fenedhis, though, he _hated_ slavers, these ones would go, and then come back someday, raiding more travelers and villages or buying from abusive shem lords. They could cross paths with other Dalish clans, or even Lavellan again, catch some scouts less aware or skilled than he or Valhen. He felt along the edge of his shield with his sword hand, stepping back further from his clanmate, then turned and headed for the cave, not a charge over the open terrain of course, being cautious, hearing the curse behind him.

Once an arrow whistled past him and he saw the sentry rising from the boulder he was behind- well, an arrow from Valhen _should_ have killed the man as soon as he showed himself, but instead, Lyos had to duck down, and just actually turn it into more of a charge.

He wouldn't have quite made it, if Valhen hadn't come to back him- although when they realized there was only _one_ elf coming, with a shield but no other weapon but a dagger still in its belt sheathe, some had hung back wondering if it was a trap or a joke.

Lyos took the sword from the first man he reached, after dropping him with a bone crunching shield slam. The men weren't wearing gear made by a master artisan, though it wasn't as bad as it could be. These were clearly reasonably practiced and _successful_ slavers.

But Dalish arrows did start taking more down, not before a slaver had managed to land one in Lyos' side. If Valhen was shouting anything, Lyos didn't hear it, too focused now on defending and attacking the men ringing him- their archers now trying to deal with Valhen.

Two slaves were dead and another injured at the end, killed before Lyos or Valhen could stop the angry slavers from just deciding to murder their own 'merchandise'. Lyos did tell himself Valhen, for all his complaining, _did_ try as quickly as he could without risking himself too much. But he wasn't sure now what he could still believe or trust about his childhood friend and, well, former lover.

It was something to think about when he was bleeding a little less.

The remaining captives were huddled away from the two Dalish scouts, as Valhen shoved a potion at Lyos and helped clamp down on injuries, scowling fiercely. They clearly were expecting to be killed, and of course, with a sigh, Lyos knew that in general- it was considered the best way to have non-Dalish keep their distance from the clans. But Lavellan was a 'friendlier' one, Valhen knew that, and used to even agree more...

Some searching located the keys, once he could stand and limp around, and he handed them to an elven woman, who stared at him with wide eyes suddenly full of hope rather than fear.

“You've supplies in here. Get firewood- don't wander too far from the cave, a blizzard's coming. Loot the bodies and figure out how to share it _fairly_. There's a village not too far to the south- don't go in other directions.”

He looked at all the captives as he gave the instructions curtly, not seeing signs in any faces that they were in a mood to question the orders of the bloody Dalish warriors that had killed, over the course of the day, twelve slavers, apparently by themselves. And of course, neither looked terribly friendly even if they'd just saved them- though Valhen, keeping his bow in one hand and arrow in the other certainly looked the least so.

The archer stayed silent until they were well out of the cave, Lyos retrieving his bow and the sword that Valhen had dropped by it, and the dark-haired scout muttered another curse at him finally, “You nearly got yourself killed, you- if I had not followed you, you would have died, and to prove _what?”_

“To completely prove that slavers aren't welcome here, you ass. The same thing we were proving throughout the day, the same thing we've proved together quite a few times before. And if you'd actually had the faith to back me up from the start, if I'd had my sword when I went in there- well, maybe I'd still be limping, and have caught an arrow with something other than my shield, but maybe not. And once upon a time, before you decided I can't think about anything clearly near you, you would have _remembered how good we both are_ at fighting.”

“Fenedhis, you arrogant little- even if you included me in that, I am not done about this. The Keeper, and the elders are not going to be happy either. You cannot expect _anyone_ to just follow you into a trap or four to one fight.”

-0-

Well of _course_ it was a trap, when two lone Venatori guards lingered just long enough to shout a little and then ran deeper into Griffon Keep. But it wasn't really a trap they were situated to just _wait out_ , and Lyos wasn't much in the mood to wait. He glanced back at the other three with him, as they stood in the wreckage of a doorway, and wiped a bit of blood off his face, not his, though he was bruised from a hard few days of fighting wildlife, bandits, Venatori, and the odd darkspawn scouting group.

“Well, what _are_ we waiting for, exactly? A more obvious 'come follow, there's a dozen or so more of us waiting for you up the stairs' signal? A lovely little invitation card edged in gold?”

Dorian sounded exasperated by the pause to breathe and scan the courtyard ahead. It _was_ a little crowded in that entryway, and soon the mage was likely going to be making some more pointed comments about Qunari sweat. The shade was at least nice, though, after all the sun from above and bouncing off sand below.

Lyos chuckled a bit, “What numbers do you think, four to one?”

Bull snorted a laugh, “What, are we going to divide them up evenly now so we each get a fair share of dead 'Vint? Not my fault you're a defensive fighter, Boss.”

“Was just remembering something.” Lyos set his shield, glanced at the others, and they headed up the waiting stairs.

 


End file.
